Eragon left the party much earlier than most, for he felt the need to search out Saphira's advice. The dragon had snuck out while he and Arya had danced, much to Eragon's dismay. He really was in need of help; how should he approach his cousin? How could he be firm yet sensitive?
He reached out to Saphira with his mind, trying to find her presence. Saphira?
His mental connection was slapped away by his sapphire companion with only one word of explanation. Hunting. So, she had slipped out to find food? For some reason, it didn't sit right with Eragon. Why had she not told him before disappearing? It was strange behavior for the dragon.
Eragon tried not to dwell on it, although he knew it would continue to bother him until she returned to his side. Walking down the dark, nearly abandoned tunnel ways was much too lonely for him, now that almost all of the Varden had left. He wandered down the familiar corridors, trying not to get the feeling that not but ghosts followed him in these tunnels.
He found a dark door to his left, paused, and knocked a bit too forcefully. There was silence for a long period of time before, finally, the door opened. Roran, shirtless, burly-eyes and bearded, stood before Eragon. He held a dark flask in his right hand, the door in his left. "I thought ye might be coming," Roran mumbled, his words slurring a bit. Eragon found himself looking at the bottle as if it were the culprit. Roran only laughed edgily, seeming to understand the glance. "It's not what it looks like. Arya gave it to me; a sleep draught, or so says she. Come in then."
Eragon had, in fact, noticed the dark circles under his cousin's eyes. It would do the man good to have some sleep, even if elven elixirs induced it unnaturally. "You and Arya seem to be getting along… well," Eragon murmured conversationally, taking a seat in the corner. How did he admit that Arya had told him Roran's feelings? Would that not be considered breaking one's trust?
Roran sighed, sitting on his bed and looking down at the floor. "I'm not lusting after her, Eragon, so if that's why you're here… I love Katrina. You know that."
Eragon looked up in surprise. Lusting? What was he talking about? After a few moments of utter confusion on Eragon's part, he finally realized – Roran thought Eragon was being protective and, of course, jealous. Eragon only shook his head. "I know you, Roran, and I know your loyalties are only for Katrina. I came not to condemn you for befriending Arya –only to congratulate you. She lets very few into her circle of companions."
Roran was silent for a time, as if pondering over the words. "Why have you come?" he finally asked.
Eragon sighed, standing. "Roran… you are still my brother. No matter how my appearances have changed, no matter how devoted I am to Saphira, no matter how many races I meet or people I kill. You are my brother, and I honor and appreciate that… and I shall never forget it." Eragon stood and went to the door, pausing. "Think on that."
With those final words, Eragon left to catch up on some well-deserved sleep.
…
The next day's traveling was not as hard as Eragon had expected. Arya was still as silent as before, riding at the front of the group with her keen eyes always scouting. Orik was much more cheerful, although he did have moments of silence and moodiness. A new King had been named and Orik well agreed with the council's choice. And as for Roran… Roran would speak more frequently with Eragon now. Although he only commented on small things, such as the cloud shapes or the horses, or even Saphira, Eragon was heartened by the change.
As the day's light began to fade, Arya pulled her horse to a halt. She turned to look at Eragon, murmuring, "We shall stop here."
Eragon wanted to point out that there was at least another half hour of light, but he realized that arguing with Arya was not the best strategy. Instead the mentally called out to Saphira, who had been circling some ways ahead of them, telling her of their location.
Orik was already getting the fire started, always one to quickly prepare a meal. Arya wandered off into the forest, as usual, and left Eragon and Roran to taking the tack off of the horses and brushing them down. Eragon didn't mind, of course, for it gave him more time to speak with his cousin whose openness prompted Eragon into murmuring, "We will find Katrina, Roran. And we will kill all of the Ra'zac we come in contact with."
Roran only nodded mutely, although he looked relieved at the words. They spent their time together mostly in silence, although it was comfortable. At dinner, they sat at the fire with Orik and ate while the dwarf sang in a deep, rumbling bass. Saphira joined in with her deep growl-like crooning, her neck arched gracefully into the air.
Arya had still not returned.
She did appear, though, while Eragon and Roran were rolling out their sleeping pallets close to the fire. She had her thin blade drawn, a small cut on her cheek and her eyes flashing like emerald fire. Before Eragon could question as to where she had been, she spoke. "Eragon, get your unnamed blade…and you, Roran, your hammer. We will spar now, for there is much for the both of you to learn. Roran, Orik waits for you in the clearing across the road. Maybe he can hone those barbaric swings of yours. Eragon… I will be waiting."
With that, her crisp words done, she turned and began walking into the forest. Her silhouette faded into the dark trees, her shadow disappearing once the ring of firelight disappeared.
"Barbaric?" Roran repeated incredulously. "I shall certainly crush the dwarf, no matter how barbaric my swings are."
Eragon chuckled, dulling the edge of his blade before reducing the attack weight of Roran's hammer. "Roran, Orik is much stronger than he appears."
"Strong or not, he is still a little man," Roran grinned, loping off toward the other side of the road. Eragon only shook his head. Empathy and humility come with time, he reminded himself. The first time I fought Arya, I thought I should lessen my blows because of her sex. And she still beat me horribly, no matter that she was female, he thought with a wry smile.
Saphira glanced over at him, her massive eye lowering to him. You have grown much, Eragon. I'm not sure if even Arya could beat you now, if she were not an elf. Go train and hope that you don't anger her, the dragon teased, nudging him along with her nose.
Eragon slipped into the woods, reaching out for Arya's aura with his mind. He found her, quite a ways off, standing perfectly still it seemed. He continued on through the thick moss on the ground and ducking under millions of low-hanging limbs. He had traveled nearly a quarter of a mile when he felt her presence right beside him. He turned around in the small clearing, barely large enough for two horses to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, but could not see her.
His confusion mounted until he slipped on something slightly thick and sticky. He bent down, pressing his fingers to it, rising them. In the dark, he could not see what it was, but the scent told him what his eyes could not.
Blood.
Alarm rose in his mind, so much so that he didn't notice when the trees above him shifted. He heard a loud cry, a rustling of tree limbs, and turned much too late. A large shape was descending upon him.
The cool metal of a blade rested against the back of his neck, heavy enough to tell him he had nearly been killed, sharp enough to tell him he wouldn't have even felt the incision being made. The thick smell of spiced pine needles filled his nose as a long curl of black hair fell onto his shoulder.
"Arya?"
Arya pulled away, picking her blade off of his neck. "You knew I was here. Why did you not have your senses more alert?"
"The blood-"
"The blood was a decoy," she answered coldly, emotionlessly. "I could have killed you fifteen different way and you would have never noticed."
"No Ra'zac will climb trees to get at me," Eragon muttered, slightly childishly, as he pulled himself to his feet.
"No, probably not," she admitted, "but Murtagh might."
That simply statement made Eragon's blood run cold. "But-"
"Your alliance with one another is over, Eragon," she answered crisply. "You know this although you may not want to admit it. He is more trained then you in the magic –those I cannot help you with. I do not know the training to be a rider, but I know how to fight. That much I can teach you. The magic you must turn to Trianna, though I hate to admit it, and her books. Though she might not be as powerful as you, I am sure she has some wonderfully dark spells you can read up on."
Eragon wasn't sure if he liked the fact that Arya was so keen on training him. Had he been sparring with Brom, or Murtagh, or even Oromis, he could have given his all, falling into the routines and even enjoying them. But against Arya… she always seemed as if she was upset, both with him and his abilities. How could he help but be intimidated by her?
Arya rose her blade, murmuring, "Stop thinking, Eragon. Sword fighting is not about thinking so deeply, it is about predicting the opponents moves and being able to improvise. Now come at me."
Eragon rose the blue blade held firmly in his grasp, relaxing his grip only slightly. He swore to himself, standing there before the woman his mind would never let go of, he would not falter.
With that, he charged.
She had predicted the simple rush, of course, and lazily swung her blade up. Though now, Eragon noted, he was able to follow the blade unlike the first time he had fought her. He was nearly matching her in speed. He spun away, using the momentum of her blade to put some distance between them. They circled, Arya crouched low, all of her weight focused on her back leg.
Eragon lunged again, only to pull back at the last moment, leaving Arya swiping at thin air. He instead swiped at her unprotected flank, but Arya was much too fast for that. She rolled, casting herself into the dirt and using her shoulder to move herself across the leave-scattered ground. She was up again and by then Eragon was already crossing the small distance between them, bringing his blade down on her.
She parried easily, the blades making a loud clang and sending sparks flying. Arya's eyes, Eragon could not see this close to her, were burning with the excitement of the fight. She shoved him back, making him stumble, and muttered, "Good. But against Murtagh, you might have to fight unfairly." And before Eragon could process the words, Arya fell to her side, scooping up a pile of leaves and throwing them at Eragon.
Eragon was so busy trying the block his eyes from the leaves that he didn't see Arya roll toward him, kicking his legs out from beneath him. He fell most ungracefully and, by the time his eyes were working well enough to see what was happening, Arya's blade was at his throat. "You're dead," she stated plainly. She stepped back, offering him her hand. "I think that is all for tonight."
Eragon took her hand, standing. He gasped for breath, watching as she turned her back and began to walk toward the trees. But something inside Eragon screamed for him to stop her, stop her with any means necessary. This was the closest he had been to her since their dance and this was the most he had probably ever gotten out of her.
So instead of sheathing his blade, he flung himself at her unsuspecting back, sword swinging.
Arya turned at the waist, throwing her sword up to block him, a wry smile on her full lips. "For some reason, I thought you wouldn't be accustomed to fighting unfairly," she murmured, her muscles straining under the exertion she was putting on her blade. "But I see that you're as sly as Murtagh. Maybe there's hope yet." Arya turned and they faced one another, opponents yet allies.
And the fight went on.
…
Author's Note:
The next chapter is the conquering –or lack thereof- of the Ra'zac and the finding of Katrina… but will she be alive? Dead? Raped and mutilated?
We shall see…
Also! I am in desperate need of a beta as I am sure all of you are well aware. If any of you are willing, you will not only be loved by me, you will get to read the chapters ahead of time and also you will get to add your two-cents about ideas on where the story is going.
Leave me some feedback!
Love love,
Eternity